


Ye Who Enter Here

by AlexLKerr



Series: Sammy's Inferno [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, BAMF Castiel, Brotherly Love, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Gen, Hell, Hell Fic, Horror, Hugs, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Season/Series 11, Torture, Trauma, fandomnatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexLKerr/pseuds/AlexLKerr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag fic to S11E09 "O Brother Where Art Thou?" Alternate canon of S11E10. </p><p>Dean and Castiel travel to hell to save Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete and it was written during this year's midseason hiatus (before season 11 resumed in January). Chapters will get released over the next few days though as I go over everything one last time before publishing.
> 
> Huge massive thank you to my incredible betas for this fic: Madiholmes and Zeryx. They get all the hugs. Also a hulk-out shout-out to the SPN fan community Fandomnatural on Reddit.com. Y'all are the most supportive, friendly people on the internet.
> 
> And now without any further ado, happy reading!

Eyes bloodshot and glazed, Dean wiped a trembling hand over his face as he looked out of the top-floor window of The Lake Shore House Inn, a modest two-story New England colonial. The thunderstorm was raging outside. Dean's eyes focused on the Inn's wooden sign swinging wildly back and forth under the pelt of rain and wind.

His eyes drifted to the window frame. Clean and white, its wooden sill solid without any silt or grit. With surreal detachment, Dean estimated the place had been renovated within the past year or two.

And the curtains...

The curtains were an old and well-worn floral print, faded after years of laundering. The towels in the bathroom were frayed but soft. The comforters and quilts were at least a decade old but still warm and clean. Dean stood beside the window table. He’d noticed earlier its edge had been carved: initials made by an inexperienced hand. Clearly a bored child, possibly decades ago, sitting at the table, digging into the soft wood while no one was looking. It had triggered memories of him and his brother, ten and six, carving their initials against the back of the bench seat...

He wished the Impala could be here, parked in the driveway. Just the sight of her would be a reassurance - a reminder that Sam belonged in that passenger seat and Dean could promise her he was going to get the kid's ass right back to her, come hell or high water.

Bad phrasing.

He flinched when Castiel placed a gentle hand against his upper arm; the same place his scar used to be.

"I am ready," Cas said solemnly.

Dean blinked and turned around. He was still wearing his suit from when he'd encountered Amara. It had been a little over six hours since the skies had stormed over and descended upon them; since she had vanished him back to the bright sunlit playground. He didn't know what had happened to her.

He didn't care if he ever did.

Not now.

Dean coughed and rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time, pushing and wiping the water away.

"You know exactly where the portal is now?" he gritted out.

"Yes," Cas replied firmly.

Dean sniffed and nodded. He stepped over to the bed and took his suit jacket off, numbly staring at several brand new mismatched outdoor clothes, basic survival gear, and the entire contents of the Impala's trunk in preparation Cas had collected and laid out on the mattress.

After the suit jacket came the tie, his hands - hell, his whole body - trembling.

They were two miles from the Appalachian Trail: Monson, Maine. It was the closest town with the kind of decent supplies and lodgings they would need... and there was no doubt they would need them.

Thunder rolled overhead as Dean laced up a pair of hiking boots. He tucked his suit pant cuffs inside them. He covered his rumpled dress shirt with a dark green wool sweater with giant white snowflakes stitched onto it and zipped up a heavy fleece-lined bright red rain jacket. The yellow and purple faux fur-lined hat was the last touch. Dean shoved it on before he turned to stand front and center before his friend. He looked ridiculous and he couldn't have cared less.

Castiel picked up the rest of their gear as though it was light as a feather and stared at his friend. Dean swallowed and nodded, eyes haunted but full of resolve. Castiel nodded back. Dean closed his eyes before he felt the angel's fingers touch the center of his forehead. 

* * *

The rain hit Dean's face full force before he even opened his eyes. He threw the hood over his head as he took in his surroundings. The forest under the storm was loud and alive but dark as pitch, the heavy clouds and tree cover blocking out any semblance of moonlight. Dean could make out the sounds of the angel rummaging around inside their bags. The beam of a flashlight appeared and Dean walked over to take it.

Dean squinted as he angled the flashlight's beam around the small clearing, trying to recognize where they were. This was supposed to be exactly where Dean had landed topside four years prior when he'd gotten out of purgatory. He recognized nothing, but he trusted Castiel right now better than his own recall.

"Are you ready?" Cas rasped and Dean turned, surprised to find the angel still on the ground.

"You okay?" Dean murmured roughly, concerned, as he ducked down to help his friend up from the forest floor. Castiel was panting but nodded as Dean braced him.

"It's been awhile since I've done this." He pointed to a spot on the ground about four feet away. "That's where we need to be," Cas said.

Dean shone his light at it. Wet leaves, twigs, stones, and mud. He took a deep breath and glanced at Cas.

"Catch your breath," he said softly and Cas nodded apologetically.

Sam had been in the cage with Lucifer for about thirteen hours. Dean refused to do the calculations on how long that was in hell time.

The angel turned to their pack of supplies as he regained his strength. Dean squeezed his shoulder before moving to inspect the area more closely, circling around in place, carefully listening and watching for even the slightest hint or signal that anyone or anything could be watching them.

Rain lapped down on leaves and trees, small animals skittered through brush, cicadas were screaming, the wind howled through and shook huge swathes of branches and leaves overhead. The whole forest canopy moved in slow powerful waves hundreds of feet above. Dean's senses could detect nothing more.

"The portal,” Dean murmured, “it's not reacting to me."

"Dean," Castiel whispered, suddenly behind him. Dean gave a start and turned around to see Cas folding the demon-killing knife inside his trench coat.

"It will react to me," Castiel said, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes vivid blue gazing into Dean; into his soul. Dean found himself calmly entranced as the angel's eyes slowly began to light from within.

"Okay," Dean said deeply, squaring himself, ready.

Castiel's eyes shone the brilliant, searing blue of an angel’s grace just before he tore into Dean's chest to grip his soul and rip it out. Dean let out a strangled scream and clutched onto his angel, gasping in devastated agony. The brutally raw pain was so overwhelming, Dean didn't notice the gaping maw of blue and white flashing energy erupting from the ground below their feet. The flashes and electricity of the portal shot through and blinded Dean as it swallowed his soul and sent him through.

The angel threw Dean's limp, utterly vacant body away to land on the forest floor, arms and legs splayed out and growing cold, and followed Dean's soul through the portal.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The air was fresh, the sounds of children laughing and an ice cream truck's chiming melody played in the distance. The warm sun lit everything with radiant colors; not a cloud in the sky, scents of cotton candy and hot dogs carried by soft winds.

Dean's legs could barely hold him up.

Crowley had asked him earlier what Amara meant to Dean and Dean couldn't deny it was a good question. On the surface, he hoped that he’d just witnessed the launch of her destruction, yet the thought filled him with an inexplicable sense of fear and grief.

Lost in conflicted thought, Dean checked his phone. Sam had called him several times while he'd been gone. The pit in his stomach got worse when he realized Sam had stopped calling him after an hour. Focused on his phone to call his brother back, pacing nervously, he looked up just in time before walking directly into a disheveled, exhausted angel.

"Sam won't answer," Castiel rasped.

And then he told him.

Sam was in hell. He was in a cage with Lucifer. He was at Lucifer's mercy. He was getting tortured, ripped apart, destroyed right now. Right as Dean stood there. Right as Castiel was speaking to him.

Dean looked around, a ringing in his ears.

The children kept playing and laughing. People were still talking and smiling. The sun continued to illuminate the idyllic sights of a happy, safe world.

Dean was having trouble processing it because everything should be stopping. Nothing should be moving. Time shouldn't be passing.

Anything less was wrong.

Dean had felt the same thing six years ago in Stull Cemetery. The same thing nine years ago in Cold Oak.

Castiel said he already had a plan.

The plan would have to wait until Dean was done throwing up in the public restroom.


	3. Chapter 3

As quickly as the pain started, it stopped, and Dean was in Purgatory.

He checked his body with his hands - his chest, torso, arms - all intact and solid. Cas had insisted on leaving his physical body topside, as it would help him fly under the radar in hell. Unfortunately, he was still wearing the same clothes. The vivid red rain jacket only served as a bull's eye target in this monochromatic realm, not to mention much too warm for where they were headed.

After shucking the jacket off, he surveyed the geography of Purgatory from the familiar cliff side outcropping. It was the last view he had ever had of Purgatory before the portal took him up, Benny's soul in tow.

Dean wondered if he'd see Benny this time.

The portal's electric humming warned Dean and he turned to see Castiel appear less than a foot away through blue sparks and streaks. The angel stood up and took note of Dean before taking a solemn moment to stare out over the same land.

"How did we do that?" Dean asked dully.

Castiel turned to his friend, alert, eyes wide and earnest.

"When you used this portal to escape, Naomi became aware of its existence. She used it to invade Purgatory and..." Castiel swallowed with distaste, "save me”.

Dean nodded and tried to figure out what to say next. They were both risking the worst fate that existed for their immortal souls. Dean wanted to say something - something meaningful, something worth remembering if they failed.

"Cas-" Dean began but Castiel moved suddenly, climbing down the rocky ledges quickly and efficiently.

"C'mon," he muttered. Dean pursed his lips but nodded and followed after the angel.

When Dean landed on firm ground beside Cas, he noticed the angel's curious expression.

"What?"

"You look very odd," Castiel replied, nonplussed. Dean looked at himself: light gray suit pants tucked into brown hiking boots with thick red laces, the green snowflake sweater with his white dress shirt sticking out.

Dean shook his head at Cas, annoyed.

“Seriously?”

Cas just nodded with the slightest hint of a smirk before starting off.

As they tore through the terrain, they couldn't afford to think beyond an atavistic awareness of their surroundings. Their minds blank of any higher-level thought, they remained ever-watchful and vigilant, crossing through the land with vicious, effective purpose. They worked well and in tandem, and got lucky enough to come across two vampires with weapons first. In short order, they fought and decapitated the monsters with their own handmade blades.

Armed, they continued on, making bloody work of another  vampire, a leviathan, and avoiding a dragon in its disgusting, fetid true form.

When they reached their destination, they found several large boulders covering the entire area. Dean had to sit down to catch his breath, his mind and body numb and shocked. He hadn't realized how much he’d forgotten about Purgatory. He marveled, in a detached sort of way, how he'd survived a full year here.

Sitting still as a statue, he kept watch as his angel pushed the giant rocks aside to find which ones covered the portal to hell. He heard a thin, pitched whistle, then the deeper, heavier sounds of sucking winds behind him.

"Dean," Cas said but Dean was already turning around.

It was a vacuum. A black space between two boulders, sucking purgatory's air and twigs and leaves into the chasm.

Dean swallowed and stepped up towards it but not directly in front of it. Not yet.

He looked up at Cas, eyes suddenly glistening.

"Moment of truth," Dean said, his voice breaking. He shrugged and attempted a smile before looking down at the ground. A tear fell from his eyes and landed on dead, gray grass.

Dean had never been back to hell since the hounds had taken him... and he knew the odds of this mission were in favor of a fate worse than the one he'd sold his soul for nine years ago.

"We're going to get him back, Dean," Cas said, coming closer and reaching his hand out onto Dean's upper arm again; right where the scar used to be. Dean suddenly understood the gesture with crystal clear clarity. It was and had always been a reassuring reminder that not all is lost; all things can be saved. All three of them have been saved before and can be saved again.

Dean sniffed and let out a wet chuckle, looking at his friend's hand.

"Right. I mean, you've done this before, right?" Dean chuckled wetly, blinking tears away.

Castiel tightened his grasp, his expression peaceful and determined and fixed upon him. Dean strived to pull strength from it. Castiel started moving them closer to the black portal that threatened no exit.

"There's a bright side here though, right?" Dean finally said as they stood face to face in front of the vortex, the winds gusting over them, making it difficult to hear. Cas gazed at Dean, patiently curious. "Worst case scenario," Dean shouted, his tears whipping off his face, "we'll still be together-?" Dean grinned and let out a wretched mix between a laugh and a sob.

Castiel smiled sweetly, almost innocently, at his friend through the rushing air.

"Yes," he said simply, in honest and calm agreement.

Dean frowned and ducked his head, nodding to himself, considering. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he reached out and pulled the surprised, rigid angel against him and held tight.

It was possibly the last expression of affection he'd ever be able to give if this didn't pan out and, at that thought, Dean only just needed a few more seconds to hold on.

Cas shifted awkwardly, maneuvering to get out of the embrace one arm at a time. Dean felt his heart sinking at the rejection but inwardly chided himself. He swallowed and loosened his hold, allowing the angel to step away.

Instead, he felt Castiel's free arm wrap around _him_ \- the angel's palm open and gripping his back. The angel's body softened and molded against his: relaxing into the embrace, freeing his other arm to grip along Dean's shoulders protectively.

Dean broke and stifled sobs against Castiel's neck. Castiel said nothing. He simply remained, gripping Dean, and laid a warm, comforting hand against the back of the man's neck.

Cas, too, was letting himself feel this - something pure and good with Dean - for possibly the last time for all of eternity.

They didn't part much when the time came - when the vortex started to take them in. Castiel stepped them around so his back faced the portal, Dean nodded against his chest, and Cas tilted them until the pressure took hold and they slid into the abyss.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel said their "conversation would not be appropriate here," touched Dean's forehead, and landed them in a vacant room on the top floor of a house in Monson, Maine. Cas corrected Dean, assuring him this was an Inn... that he'd neglected to book.

Numb, Dean made his way downstairs to smooth things out with the staff of Lake Shore House Inn. They grilled him about looking ill and needing a doctor... and oh yeah, how the hell did he get upstairs in the first place?

When Dean got back, he was ready to collapse. Instead he sat down quietly on the queen-sized bed, struggling to collect himself. The clean and warm duvet beneath him was a faded robin's egg blue with light yellow starburst stitching. The rain poured outside. Nothing seemed real.

Castiel cleared his throat and he flinched.

"Dean-"

"Go," Dean said, his voice low. Cas tilted his head.

"What?"

"The plan. Tell me."

Castiel nodded, and did.

The plan was not simple.

Apparently, Sam was in the hell boonies: Limbo. Castiel had barely even noticed it the few times he'd been to hell and Dean certainly couldn't claim any knowledge either, as he'd been relegated and imprisoned to the racks "further down and to the left," Cas informed him with a casual brevity that gave Dean the briefest pause of traumatized wonderment.

"So how do we know where-?"

"Crowley," Castiel said, standing tall and betraying nothing as he stared down at Dean. It wasn't a challenge exactly... but Castiel was clearly expecting Dean's disapproval and ready to justify himself.

Dean worked his jaw and tried to care they might be going down this road again. Instead, he felt nothing but fear and desperation, and accepted this collusion with Crowley, no questions asked.

Castiel's eyes widened imperceptibly, surprised and relieved that Dean wasn't going to press the issue.

"Crowley told me how to get there."

Dean sighed and nodded. He knew what he'd say normally. Normally he'd spit back, 'in exchange for _what,_ Cas?' but right now? Did it really matter? Did he really want to know what Cas had exchanged to get this information?

Because now was not the time to stall with moral quandaries about whether or not to save Sam based off what Castiel had traded to get this intelligence. And Castiel was standing before him now, unflinchingly ready to save his little brother and face the resulting consequences. And these were consequences he had agreed to before he had even appeared to Dean at that godforsaken playground to tell him what had happened.

This was not on Dean.

Dean was biting his lip so hard he was close to drawing blood. He shook his head and looked at Cas pathetically.

"Whatever you did - whatever you dealt or traded with Crowley, Cas-"

"That is not your concern," Cas dismissed, his eyes boring into Dean's. Dean opened his mouth but stopped at Castiel’s doleful expression, understanding it for what it was. Dean looked down, nodding at the floor. He swallowed.

"Whatever you did," Dean said, looking back up at Cas, eyes and tone insistent. It was telling enough that he wasn't asking what Cas had done. What mattered was this: "Sam and I - we're gonna help you. You're..." Dean trailed off, incapable of saying something as strange and sentimental as 'you're ours.'

Castiel’s eyes glinted, the corner of his mouth turning up in a fond, knowing smile. This was both Dean's apology and promise to make it up to him.

Cas tilted his head towards Dean in acknowledgement before resuming.

"Limbo is unguarded and fortunately near the portal entrance we will take into hell. We slip in quietly-"

"-won't the alarms go off when an angel comes knocking at the gates of hell?" Dean interrupted, his voice gravelly but taking on a more solid and practical tone.

"It is only when an angel uses their grace inside hell that anyone would be alerted," Cas replied evenly.

"So," Dean paused in thought, irked, "What're you gonna be there for? Moral support?" Dean shot with more heat than he felt. He didn't exactly know what he was doing. It occurred to him antagonizing the only person capable of saving Sam maybe wasn’t the right way to go.

"No," Cas said, squinting and lips twitching with annoyance. "Once we get into Limbo, hell will not recognize my grace when I use it."

"Why?"

Cas pursed his lips, hesitant and uncomfortable, before answering.

"My grace will be confused with Lucifer's in Limbo."

Dean's eyes widened, then let out a small huff of empty laughter.

"So you're saying they can't tell the difference between Bowie and Vanilla Ice?"

Cas made a face.

"Yes," he admitted, "but please. Don't liken me to Vanilla Ice," he said humorlessly. Dean looked at him blankly before giving a small, genuine smirk.

"What happens next?"

Castiel shifted.

"The cage."

Dean nodded and waited, but the angel remained quiet.

"Right. The cage. How do we get him out?" Dean prompted, expectant.

Cas took a deep breath, crystal blue unblinking eyes drilling into his friend’s.

"We don't."

Dean blinked.

"Come again?"

Castiel sighed and sat down on the bed across from Dean.

"Let me start with this," Cas said tentatively, "it is... taxing... for all angels... to force humans to do anything without their consent-"

"-what?" Dean huffed incredulously, "Zachariah-"

"-was extremely powerful. And while you cannot see angels in their true forms, he was exhausted every time he compelled you and Sam in such elaborate ways to say yes to Michael and Lucifer," Cas said, quick and articulate to a fault.

"Okay, okay," Dean murmured, conceding, and gestured for Cas to go on.

"Now... Lucifer," Cas paused, looking seriously at Dean to make sure he was still following. Dean nodded. "Lucifer has forced Sam into the cage and is now keeping him there - all against his will. It necessarily weakens him."

"He's an archangel though-"

"Yes," Cas replied calmly, "but he is weak."

Dean folded his arms, deep in thought.

"Was it like that in the," Dean swallowed, "y'know, real cage?"

"No. Lucifer was not weakened in the Cage. Sam had given his consent to be there," Cas said softly. Dean let out a pitched grunt of indignation, his eyes prickling. He blinked it away: he couldn't think back to that. They had to stay focused.

"Okay so Lucifer's weak in this cage. What does that mean?"

"It's not as much that Lucifer is weak, but that Sam is strong."

Dean considered, then shook his head.

"Yeah I don't know what that means either, Cas," he replied dully.

"There is power in consent, Dean," Cas said, leaning forward, closer to Dean for emphasis, his eyes blazing with something Dean couldn't figure out for a second... until he did.

It was excitement.

Dean stared back at Cas, uncomprehending.

"I can get us in there, Dean. I can get us into the cage with your consent. I cannot fight Lucifer... but I can protect you - and Sam if he's with you, if you can find him - inside the cage."

Dean's heart practically stopped at the revelation. He opened his mouth and found himself without words.

"I...what?!" Dean whispered, appalled. "I thought the plan was to get Sam _out_ of the cage, not all of us _in it_!" he yelled, getting up from the bed, words rushing out. "What the... _fuck,"_ Dean shouted, hands braced against the back of his head.

Cas shook his head and stepped forward after him.

"You misunderstand," Cas said emphatically and Dean turned around, his eyes glassy and pleading despite himself. "I can protect you and Sam inside the cage by the virtue and power of _your_ consent, Dean."

Dean let his arms fall to his sides. He shrugged, shook his head, and threw his palms out to Cas, offering him the floor because he still didn't get it.

"I can get you up to that point," Cas promised, "from there, it is up to you and your brother."


	5. Chapter 5

The trip down was sickening, as were the sounds that echoed around them once they'd landed. Souls crying, screaming, and moaning up and down the dripping, gritty corridors.

Dean had never been in this section of hell. The meat hook suspensions and the rack platforms stretching up and down for infinity, surrounded by fire and swarming masses of bloody tortured bodies above and below, waiting their turn, was all that he knew of the underworld.

In comparison, this level of hell seemed like the fucking penthouse suite.

Dean stabilized himself to carry the weight of the mission with resolved surety as he took point. They had to get to Limbo before Cas could do anything as an angel.

Cas handed the demon blade over. It'd been carefully stashed in the folds of his trench coat during their journey through purgatory as only weapons _from_ purgatory could injure those _in_ purgatory. The rules changed in hell though. Here, the blade was the only weapon they had. The demons here were... pure, for lack of a better word. No vessels… and exorcisms certainly didn't apply, nor would holy water or salt work, their properties immediately corrupted upon entry by hell itself.

Dean started forward with Castiel trailing behind him, both adept and competent as they moved.

Neither spoke or made a sound as they wended carefully down the center of the wet, dungeon-esque hallway they'd found themselves. Dean heard snatches of chilling words and phrases at times and did his best to block them out. They passed a cell with a man reaching out at them.

"Eddie! Eddie!" he muttered viciously, seething.

Another direction found a woman burning in a fireplace, laughing maniacally.

"Come with me! Into the fire! Come!"

"Honey-" Dean started to quip, but broke off when Cas jolted against his back. Dean turned around to see what spooked the angel when he registered the high-pitched words of a young woman.

"I've been praying. You came - I knew you would," she trilled softly. "I've been praying. Came. I knew you would. Praying," she chanted incoherently, eyes blazing as she stared at Castiel, "for _forever_!" she suddenly screamed, raging and shrieking, pushing against the bars of her cell reaching for Cas like she wanted to tear him apart piece by piece.

" _Waiting forever! Forever!_ " Her blackened teeth gnashed and snapped.

Dean pulled Cas behind him by the scruff of his collar, clipping his neck, and Cas fell back gracefully. Dean gripped Castiel’s arm sharply with his free hand and pulled as he picked up their pace to get out of this weird section of hell.

"What is this," Dean muttered disapprovingly as they pushed down the hall, past all the shrieks and moans.

"They seem to be insane," Cas observed, keeping up. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes.

"The abandoned dregs of hell... nobody even wants to _torture_ them much..."

"Well. You were a special case," Cas replied evenly. Dean came up short and turned around, disgruntled. Cas stopped. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean said pointedly, eyes digging into Cas. Cas looked baffled, Dean rolled his eyes, "c'mon," he said, turning back around.

They turned a corner and Dean stopped, awestruck at the sight of a massive, elaborately decorated room reminiscent of a Gothic cathedral. Vaulted arched ceilings and carved statues of demons and souls screaming out in pain spanning all along the walls.

There was a center aisle staging area that ran the entire length of the hall, various medieval torture equipment set out at stations.

It was empty.

Castiel stepped one foot ahead of Dean, looking on.

"The Inquisition heavily influenced this area's designs," Castiel said implacably.

Dean didn't know how Cas could make him laugh at a time like this and, to be fair, he actually didn't. It was just that it was exactly what Dean needed to hear. He needed to be as impenetrable to what they were seeing down here as Cas was and he could do it.

With Cas here, he could do it.

"C'mon," he whispered, and raced past everything without a single glance, their footsteps hollow. They had to get to Limbo.


	6. Chapter 6

The radiator clunked and the lamp lights flickered for a second before stabilizing, the storm raging on outside.

"What do you mean, 'from there it's up to us'?" Dean asked the angel, voice heavy.

"I mean I can get us in and protected by the power of your consent, Dean, but I can't get us _out_ without the power of Sam's consent," Cas explained. He took a step closer. "Dean, you need to reach Sam. In the cage," Cas clarified, like it was an insurmountable feat, "and get his consent for us to help him."

Dean shook his head.

"If I'm in the cage and he's in the cage, won't I be able to reach him?" Dean asked, confused.

Cas licked his lips nervously and looked away.

"Hey!" Dean called and Cas turned back with doubtful eyes. "What? What is it?"

"You'll have to convince him that it's you."

Dean shook his head, not getting it.

"Dean, you have..." Cas trailed off, trying to find the right words, as Dean stared daggers at him, "a... a bad track record. With your brother."

It took a minute for Castiel’s words to sink in. When Dean finally understood, dread and darkness seeped into him, chilling him to the core.

"No," he  snarled, threatening. "That," he paused, doing his best to rein himself in, "is not a question, do you understand me?"

Unlike anyone else in the world or any other realms of heaven or hell or purgatory, Castiel raised an eyebrow and sighed as he turned away, shaking his head.

 _"Hey!"_ Dean yelled, outraged. "Do you-"

"No," Cas boomed, turning quickly around to face him, "do _you_ understand the stakes here? If you don’t convince Sam it is truly you and get his consent, then all of us will remain in the cage. Forever."

Dean backed off.

"Cas-"

"Do you not get that Lucifer has worn your face not only in hell but in Sam's hallucinations on Earth? Do you understand the last time you begged his consent, it was to be possessed by a corrupt angel? Do you _understand_... the number of times Sam has been _burnt_ by trusting you?" Castiel finished, his voice sharp as nails, eyes blazing as he stared into Dean, forcing him to face these realities.

The words reverberated inside Dean, knifing through his defenses, pulling out the truth and pushing all doubts and insecurities about his relationship with his brother to the forefront, screaming at him that Cas was right. Screaming that he wouldn't be able to reach his brother after all the mind games and tricks Sam had been subjected to just because he had Dean for a brother.

"Dean," Castiel’s voice cut in, but Dean was lost in nightmares. "Dean," Cas said more urgently, "stop. I know what you’re thinking. You don't even have to pray anymore," he said offhandedly. Dean's eyes lifted to his friend, slightly surprised and hurt by the callous tone.

Cas softened and tilted his head lower so he could look up at Dean with wide, earnest eyes.

"None of it has ever been your fault, Dean," he said, utterly sincere. Dean felt himself shaking and covering his mouth as if to stop his lips from trembling, his tears from falling. "But we're not doing this - we're not risking everything - just for you to fail once you get to Sam."

Dean swallowed and nodded, doing his best to regain composure.

"You just have to convince him. One, that it's you. Two, that he must consent to you and me."

Dean nodded, sniffing and rubbing his face, digging into his eyes. This really was terrifying, he realized. There was absolutely no way Dean could be sure he'd be able to reach and get that from Sam. It was right here - right now - this very conversation, that Dean realized their odds of success were low; astronomically low given the lynch pin was a traumatized, tortured and delusional little brother who was currently refusing to say 'yes' to Lucifer.

Dean looked at Castiel and it dawned on him that Cas had already made peace with how this could be the end of his story. That he might end up spending eternity in this cage with Dean, Sam, and Lucifer, and it still would have been worth it. For Sam.

Now it was Dean's turn to get over it.

"How much ti..." Dean went quiet, "time will we... have?" Dean’s voice was breaking but he didn't care. Especially not with Cas, who simply kept the same open and understanding expression he'd had before.

Cas tilted his head, considering, before looking back up at Dean.

"I don't know."


	7. Chapter 7

After running through hell's carousel of damned souls, Cas and Dean finally stopped at a gritty metal door, no markings save for a thick nondescript ring melded into the center.

Dean pulled on it as hard as he could. It wouldn’t budge.   

"This is it?" Dean asked doubtfully.

Cas looked at Dean and nodded.

"Get ready," he said, then stepped forward and, instead of pulling, used the metal ring to knock against the door. Dean rolled his eyes. He set his feet, raising his knife as the door slid open slowly.

He waited for a couple seconds before shoving hard against the door, hoping to knock the demon behind it off balance. The desiccated, skeletal body of the demon's true form rocked back on its heels for only an instant. It screeched and narrowed its black, slitted eyes and attacked with razor sharp claws. Thunder and lightning struck loudly overhead just as Dean ducked and aimed for its gut. The demon shifted and pierced a claw into him just below the armpit and Dean cried out in pain. He suddenly felt Castiel's presence beside him and within the blink of an eye the feral demon was off him and slammed against the wall, writhing and spitting.

Dean collapsed, huffing in agony over the sharp stab wound, and stared up at his angel. Cas was standing beside him now, in the hallway, using one  hand to hold the demon up.

The demon began laughing, its spindled extremities shaking with twisted mirth.

"What're you gonna do, _smite_ me? You're in _hell_ ," it hissed. Another streak of lightning overhead and Dean could see Castiel's stoic expression. He couldn't figure out if the demon was right - whether angels could smite demons in hell or not.

"Dean. The blade," Castiel commanded, eyeing the disgusting, mangled demon on the wall.

 _Guess not_ , Dean figured. He handed the weapon over from where he was sitting on the repulsive wet, dirty floor. Cas looked down, curious, and realized Dean was so injured he couldn't get up. The angel moved faster after that, approaching the demon quickly, the blade in hand.

"Wait- no!" The demon yelled just before Castiel unceremoniously - almost casually - sunk the knife up to its hilt into the demon's flesh. Thunder cracked and roared overhead, drowning out the ungodly screams as light crackled and fizzled inside the wretched form before extinguishing entirely.

A black charred heap landed on the floor.

"So..." Dean said, leaning against the stone wall, pressing down on his injury as hard as possible. He looked up at the storm overhead. "This Limbo? That why you could, uh..."

Cas watched Dean, brows furrowed with concern.

"Yes. Anything I do now as an angel will be discounted given Lucifer's presence in this section of hell."

"Cool," Dean huffed winningly, jaw clenched. He gestured, uncoordinated, to the demon's remains. "You can't smite demons here though, huh?" he asked, breaking into a sweat.

"I would need more of heaven's forces with me in order to do so."

"Can you heal?" Dean gritted out. Cas knelt down and pushed Dean's hand away from his side, pressing his palm against the wound.

"Yes," he whispered softly, almost kindly, as a small light emerged under Castiel's hand and healed the injury.

Dean took a huge breath, then a few more.

"Are you ready?" Castiel’s palm still laid against Dean's side, an unconscious gesture of comfort. Dean took it, swallowing and nodding before reaching for his angel's arm to help him up.

"Right as rain," Dean replied gruffly, getting up and cracking his back.

Silent and synchronized, they ran on into the depths of hell.


	8. Chapter 8

The toilet flushed, the sturdy white door to the bathroom opened, and Dean walked back into the room. Castiel had appeared not a minute earlier, arms full of clothes and camp gear he was laying out on the bed. Dean watched for a minute, leaning against the bathroom door.

"How'd you get your wings back?" Dean asked dully.

Castiel inhaled and looked around the room, obviously unsure how to break the news.

"What is it?" Dean asked, interest piqued.

"Gabriel."

Dean started, then stood up from the table.

"What?" he whispered viciously, "that son of a bitch is still alive?!"

"Yes," Cas replied simply.

"Where the fuck has he been!?"

"In hiding," Cas replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Dean had to admit it was: Gabriel was a selfish, self-serving, cowardly piece of shit-

"I found him," Castiel interrupted Dean's fuming thoughts. "He never fell from Heaven because he wasn’t in Heaven at the time. He is still an archangel."

"He wants to fight the darkness with us?"

"I didn't ask."

"Ah, ha..." Dean stumbled, blinking, "wanna try that again?" Dean said threateningly.

"There will be time for that later, Dean," Castiel replied dismissively, thoroughly immune to Dean's ire. "I asked him to heal me... so I could save Sam. I convinced him it was in his best interests that Sam be saved," Cas paused, then ticked his head to the side with idle thought, "it also seems Gabriel has somewhat of a soft spot for Sam, albeit warped."

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. Again.

"Unreal," he murmured to himself, shaking his head with closed eyes. He breathed through it.

"So," he finally spoke up, "after this all went down with Sam, you just met up with everybody before you came to me, huh?" Dean said bitterly, "Crowley, Gabriel. Who else?"

"No one else. And Crowley came to me," Castiel clarified and Dean's eyes widened indignantly, "for the record," Castiel added.

Dean held still, processing, before he gave a small groan and rubbed his forehead, overwhelmed.

"Again. From the beginning," Dean demanded. Castiel nodded and the two of them sat down at the table near the window.


	9. Chapter 9

The giant stair well, lit only by torches placed sparingly along the wall, was the worst obstacle for speed. Dean  nearly broke his ankle after a step crumbled beneath him. Luckily, it was just a sprain. Cas caught up and healed him anyway.

They turned a corner and stopped short, looking up and around the entire space, the damp, muddy floor that went on forever, the endless dark, angry clouds and winds storming above them. Dean squinted as he gazed skyward, wondering if, far beyond, the meat hook suspensions were somewhere up there.

He shivered off the thought and turned to Cas. Following the angel's line of sight, he saw a dilapidated wooden stage... gallows. How fitting.

Without a word, Castiel strode forward and Dean followed cautiously.

As they passed the gallows' staircase, they saw the cage beyond.

Dean jogged past Castiel to get there - to glimpse inside.

A brief flash of lightning overhead illuminated the interior.

"It's empty!" Dean yelled, turning back to Cas who had quietly stepped up next to him. "Cas!" Dean whispered heatedly, breathing hard, nearly panicked. "What-"

"It is not empty," Castiel interrupted, eyes sharp and focused, staring into the cage.

"What?" Dean swiveled back. He saw nothing. He looked to Cas and realized the angel's eyes were darting all around, searching the cage's interior.

Suddenly Castiel's eyes widened and he gasped, putting a hand to his mouth in horror as he backed away from the cage.

"Cas? Cas?!"

Lightning streaked across the sky and Dean saw the angel's gaunt expression.

"C'mon, Cas, c'mon," Dean murmured, pulling Cas against his side and leaving an arm over the angel's heaving back.

"I," Cas started before swallowing, "I found Sam," he said. Dean froze with fear.

"We can get to him," Cas said, straightening.

Dean looked into the angel's eyes, terrified.

"You gotta tell me what you saw, Cas," he said, his voice weak and crackling, "You..." Dean swallowed his emotions down, "you gotta tell me what I'm working with when I see him. We don't know how much time we have."

Cas took a second, looking down at the swampy ground, then nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

"How do we get back topside?"

"I'm not sure."

Dean blinked and stumbled over his words.

"Whoa-whoa-I-you... what?!"

"The mission is to get Sam out of the cage-"

"And safely home, god damn it!"

"Yes," Cas replied immediately, then gave an imperceptible shrug as he tilted his head, "well..."

"Well nothing, Cas! What kind of fucking idiot has no exit strategy for a god damn rescue?!"

"The pacts I've made have only been in exchange for Sam's removal from the cage and away from Lucifer. Sam must not say yes to Lucifer. Not ever again."

Dean pushed closer to Cas, not three inches away from his face, searching the angel's eyes with his own.

"Tell me you care about Sam more than that," Dean said more plaintively than he'd intended.

Castiel steeled himself.

"I do," he replied stonily.

"Then what's... the plan?" Dean whispered.

Cas licked his lips, uncomfortable.

"I can only heal him once he is outside the cage."

Dean's eyes widened and he took a step back.

"...but you _can_ heal him?"

Cas took a breath and nodded.

"Yes. Sam should be mobile if he's not too psychologically traumatized. From there, the three of us must get out the same way we got in."

"What're the odds that he's not too psychologically traumatized?" Dean shot back.

"Very low," Cas responded gravely.

"Very low," Dean repeated, his heart hammering in his chest, "okay."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is why I used the 'graphic depiction of violence' warning. Brace for disturbing imagery, please!

Castiel stepped up behind Dean's staggered form. The eldest Winchester's head was bowed, eyes closed and cheeks tear-stained. Castiel slid one arm over his chest, the other around his waist, and waited as Dean slowly recuperated.

"You can do this, Dean," Castiel whispered as his body began to grow, his black wings appearing and stretching out behind him. Oblivious, Dean gave a small nod and latched onto the angel's arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Good," Cas murmured, "you must hold tight. Do not let go until I tell you to let go. Do you understand?" Dean nodded again and felt Castiel's body against his back change, sensing the angel’s true form emerging behind him.

"I understand," he said solemnly, hearing wings and feathers fluttering and expanding out on either side of him. They were so loud, powerful, they blocked out the storm's rolling, roaring thunder above.

"Cas?" Dean's voice broke and Castiel tightened his hold on Dean.

"Yes?" Cas responded, his voice different now: calm and smooth.

Dean's chest heaved with emotion, and he rolled the back of his head against the angel's shoulder.

"Thank you," he rasped quietly, another tear spilling over onto the back of Castiel's arm.

"Do not cry," Castiel said softly, and lowered his head down against the side of Dean's, "I believe in you, Dean Winchester."

Massive cloaking wings shot out past Dean and latched onto two bars of the cage. Ripping, scoring sounds of metal and electricity shot through the air and Dean watched as the bars smoldered red and bent apart by the angel's brute strength and power.

Castiel clasped Dean harder against his chest as the hole between the bars widened. Limbo's thunder above was muffled then silenced by a shrill, glass-shattering ringing that kept increasing in volume. Dean had heard the sound. It took him back to a small convenience store shortly - the one he'd found after having crawled out of his own grave.

Suddenly Dean was launched towards the space between the bars, passing through them at a ferocious speed. Within a split second Dean realized the acceleration was getting past any point he could handle. His jaw clenched as tightly as possible,  he did his best to breathe through gritted teeth. He felt like he was merging with Castiel's chest. Colors and lights and sounds around him inside the cage meshed together and blurred. Lightheaded and barely breathing, he was on the brink of passing out. His vision went gray and everything began tunneling. He could only focus on the flashing shades of black-white-grey-black-grey-white and the ambient whirs of Castiel's wings.

Brittle, barely holding to consciousness, Dean suddenly felt their speed slowing. He dazedly registered Castiel's palm against his forehead. Dean couldn't determine whether it was healing or simply stabilizing him, but when he landed on what felt like rocky floor made of uncut granite, he felt measurably better.

The smell hit him first as he breathed through the shock and dissipating pain. Sterile, like bleach, but it only barely concealed the raw and fetid stench underneath. The floor's edges cut into his knees and palms from his position on all fours.

 _Dean,_ Castiel's voice murmured gently in his mind, _Sam is here._

Dean blinked and looked up just as a single wing spread over him, shadowing him in darkness, and continued on.

"Where are you, Cas?"

Dean's eyes drifted past the edge of the wing as it moved so he could see where he was before the wing’s shadow descended.

_I am with Lucifer. He cannot reach you or Sam under my wing._

Dean squinted, registering searing brilliant white and blue colors and lights along the tiled walls beyond Cas's encroaching wing. The tiles had figures on them that Dean couldn't make out.

"Be careful, Cas," Dean whispered just as he realized the figures were clowns, blood dripping from their open smiling mouths, sharp fangs extended in gaping expressions of delighted surprise. Their bulbous, flaming eyes moved and flickered as Castiel's wing drew past them and cut them from Dean's sight.

Dean's gaze moved in the same direction as the spread of Cas's wing and turned around just in time before the wing sealed him into a protective dome of pitch darkness. Dean's breath caught and his heart stopped when he saw his little brother. It was only a glimpse but it was enough; it was too much.

Sam's whole body was spread out naked, his arms and legs pinned by thin metal stakes. Every inch of him was coated in fresh red blood that shone brilliantly under the bright lights. The blood was so thick and layered on Sam that Dean almost thought he'd been skinned until he noticed his brother's hair: it was a mess and mix of dried and drying blood tangling each strand, but it was there.

Sam was laid out on a blue spongy pad about a foot thick above the floor - practically a platform - and as Dean's horrified eyes drifted back to the T-shaped pins holding Sam splayed out, he realized what this was.

Cas hadn't been specific enough to prepare Dean for this. To be fair, Cas didn't even have a frame of reference for this. How could an angel know high school biology classes dissected frogs in this manner.

And until now, Dean had thought he'd been the only one to know how much his fourteen year old kid brother had hated the curriculum. Sam had had nightmares about it, and while he refused to give details after Dean would wake him up, gasping and wheezing nearly every night, it was two months in that Sam finally admitted that the frog dissection course was _maybe_ the root of his nightmares. Dean didn't pass over it; his intuition sharp when it came to his little brother. He'd secretly called the teacher and within a few days Sam had been serendipitously (but plausibly) reassigned. Still, it was months before the nightmares disappeared.

It was an obscure horror that Lucifer had obviously pulled out of his brother's subconscious. Just one of a series of nightmares, Dean was sure, but each just as sickening and depraved as the one before it. He wished he'd just found Sam cowering in a corner with clowns. Dean could handle clowns.

Dean didn't feel like he could handle Sam splayed and pinned out like a frog. He didn't have a choice though.

He crawled across the floor as the memory played out in his head, watching Sam's body appear again out of the darkness as Cas's wing began to glow and illuminate their surroundings with the soft blue sheen of his grace.

 _Get to him, Dean,_ Castiel said, his voice faint.

"Castiel! How much time!?" Dean roared brokenly as he reached his brother, climbing onto the blue pad.

 _Minutes,_ Castiel breathed, _Lucifer-_

"Save it!" Dean yelled desperately, and he heard no more.

It was completely silent under Castiel's wing except for Dean practically hyperventilating with fear and adrenaline and one other noise; a choked rattling that got louder as Dean approached and felt his brother's chest, hitching and slicked with blood. The sound was Sam trying to breathe.

"Sammy?" he whispered, tears falling over his brother's face. Shaky hands tried to wipe away the mixture of fresh and congealed blood.

Sam's chest lifted and rattled louder at the sound of his brother's voice and Dean swallowed his nausea. Sam's body shivered and his neck muscles twitched. Dean pushed his hands over Sam's face, cradling his head.

"It's okay, Sammy, I'm gonna," Dean gulped, "gonna get you out," he whispered. He took two deep breaths and looked down at his brother's body, forcing himself to triage. Blinking his tears away to see clearly, he realized the blood coating Sam's entire body seeped from superficial wounds peppered all over his skin - whip lashes, knives, burns... no deep or eviscerating incisions. No actual 'dissecting' had come to pass.

It made Dean sick to his stomach to acknowledge this was a good thing; he could've gotten to Sam at a moment where his body was so damaged - the pain so intolerable - that Sam wouldn't be capable of responding at all.

Dean huffed loudly through his lips, psyching himself up to do what he had to do. He pressed a heavy kiss against Sam's forehead, bloodying his lips and grimacing at the taste, before standing up over him.

Dean worked down-up, starting with Sam's Achilles' heels. Dean grabbed the t-shaped metal, placed his boot against Sam's ankle for leverage, and threw his strength into lifting it out.

Sam groaned and hiccupped his cries. Dean could barely hear Sam over his own stunted sobs as he moved his weight around and got his other foot free which trembled and spasmed when he was done. Sam let out a low, unconscious guttural moan before lapsing back to silence and tattered breath.

Next were Sam's thighs - pulled apart and pinned. Dean was close to throwing up with revulsion as he stepped his foot on Sam's leg just above the pin, counted to three, and roared with exertion as he pulled in one swift powerful move, lifting the pin all the way out, through the meat of Sam's thigh, and throwing it off the pad.

Sam's screams echoed and drowned out the sound of the pin clattering to the granite floor. The second pin was dispatched in the same fashion. Sam began to whisper broken, inchoate begs for mercy after screaming past his vocal chords. Bodily jerks and frantic twitches were nearing the edge of convulsions for him. He curled his mutilated legs up to his torso and twisted onto his side away from Dean.

"It's okay," Dean cried, stepping up to the next pin sliced through his little brother's hand. "Sam... Sammy, it's okay," softer this time, weeping in short, quick bursts, struggling with his own nausea and grief.

Dean steeled himself yet again, gripped the pin holding Sam's palm down and wrenched it up. Sam gasped and gagged as Dean made equally quick work of the pin stuck clear through the same arm's bicep.

Once free, Sam instinctively pulled his hand against his chest, shakily rubbing the fist up and down, almost soothingly, and Dean momentarily flashed back to Sam as a kid with mild asthma, having trouble breathing musty, polluted air and rubbing his chest up and down exactly like he was doing right now. It'd been Sam's way of relaxing and calming himself through the pain of an attack...

"Sammy c'mon, come back to me," Dean prayed aloud as he pulled around and grasped the pin stabbing through the flesh of Sam's other bicep.

"Cas?! How much time!?" Dean shouted, getting a good grip, his palms wet with blood and sweat.

 _Longer now_ , Cas responded immediately, his voice graveled, exhausted, but stronger than it had been before. _Keep doing whatever you're doing, Dean_ , he encouraged.

With that, Dean pulled the pin and Sam's short scream transformed into wheezes and pants.

"Please," Sam rasped and Dean had never heard Sam sound like that. He squared his jaw and stepped around, tears openly falling now as he watched his little brother pull his whole body up to curl around the last pin in his palm.

Dean gritted his teeth and pushed down the desperate urge to just stop and take Sam in his arms.

"You can do this - you can do this," he huffed under his breath, shaking, "almost done." He pushed the sole of his boot down as gently as possible against Sam's wrist, edging onto the heel of his palm.

"I gotcha, Sam, I gotchya," Dean breathed, " _c'mon_ ," he said as he heaved the last pin up and out, humming loudly to stave off the sounds of Sam's last - dear God let it please be his last - piercing screams.

Dean threw the pin to the floor and collapsed to his knees, hunched over in despair, but his eyes remained on Sam's bloody form hitching labored breaths in the fetal position. Dean shook with adrenaline and took stock of his brother's beaten, tortured body.

The blue angelic hue of the room began sinking its peaceful roots into him and Dean tried to soak it in despite the sight before him. The smell - the stench - that had hit him so hard earlier had dissipated and transformed into something else without him noticing. The air was fresh and airy, an undercurrent of natural sweetness.

Dean gasped lightly and tried to swallow the lump in his throat when he recognized it: the Cleveland Botanical Gardens.

They'd told Cas after they'd seen Joshua. This scent had to have been calculated: what better way to convince Sam, even if it was subtle - even if it was unconscious - that they were good, than with the scent they both associated with God's garden? It was such a strange detail that Dean doubted Lucifer had ever used it against Sam. The thought was heartening.

He reached out to Sam, letting his fingers delicately brush over his head until they landed, steady and still, against the back of Sam's neck.

Sam shook and spasmed as if chilled by the touch, but Dean didn't back off.

"Sam," he whispered, leaning low over his brother.

Sam didn't do anything except tremble harder under the blue light of grace.

Dean inched closer on his knees. He lifted his hands above Sam again, considering, and then brought them down again onto his brother's body: one on his shoulder, the other cradling his head.

"Sammy, c'mon," he murmured, turning the kid slowly, carefully, over onto his back. Sam shuddered roughly in his arms and Dean held him as gently as possible until he could see his face.

Sam _couldn't_ open his eyes, Dean realized. He'd thought the kid's eyes were just closed but now, under the brighter blue light now, Sam's lids were caked, glued shut by dried, reddish-black blood.

Sam vibrated with trauma, his hands curled with tremors against his chest.

"Okay, Sammy, hold still, you gotta see me," Dean said as he licked his finger and slowly, carefully pushed it against Sam's eyelids and rubbed the delicate skin, moistening and slipping the layers of crusted blood off. Sam whimpered in fear and pain, but he never made a move against Dean.

"Okay, Sammy, open up," Dean whispered, starting to pull the lid open and Sam gave a small broken sound before the eyelid practically popped up.

"That's it. Look at me, Sam. Look at me," he coaxed as Sam slowed his movements into frozen shock.

"I..." Sam gagged.

"No. Listen-"

"No. Never," Sam gurgled, then started coughing. "Fuck... you," he added between gasps as Dean pulled his arms up around his kid brother to brace him through it.

"Okay-okay-okay," Dean whispered heavily, moving his hand to stabilize the back of Sam's head.

 _Dean. Minutes now,_ Castiel imparted suddenly.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded before opening them again and staring into his little brother's single open eye. It was fiery, full of defiance, and it lit equal measures pride and terror into Dean about what it meant.

"Sammy, listen to me-"

"No-"

"No!" Dean yelled. Sam cringed and shook against him.

Dean grasped him tighter, trying to reassure, but Sam wouldn't stop shaking so Dean had to just keep going. "You are safe, do you understand me? I am your brother. I am Dean. I'm here 'cause Cas is fighting off Lucifer so we can talk _right now_. I can take you home. I can take you home, Sam. Okay? Let's go home, Sammy," Dean said vehemently, his voice cracking.

Sam hadn't blinked once yet even though his entire body was quaking under Dean's hold. He just stared at Dean under the blue-lit dome of Castiel's wing.

Dean licked his lips and tasted salt from his own tears.

"I've got you. You need to say yes to me and Cas right now, Sam. If you don't, none of us will get out of here."

Sam stared up at him and, for a second, Dean thought he'd gotten through. Then Sam's face contorted into sneering contempt and hatred, his lips, red with blood, peeling back to bare blackened gritted teeth.

"L-lies," Sam hissed slowly, then closed his eye. "I will... n-never..."

Dean grunted with helpless frustration. He looked around them, not knowing what to do.

 _Dean_ , Castiel called weakly.

"I don't know what to do, Cas!" Dean shouted through his own tears, clutching his brother. "He won't...Sammy?" Dean cried again, looking down at his brother. Sam jerked, as if surprised, and opened his eye again to stare into Dean's coolly. He was stubborn; steadfast, and worst of all, he clearly knew exactly what he was doing. Or what he _thought_ he was doing.

In that moment, Dean knew without a doubt that he could not beat this. Sam was too gone to believe it was really him and too noble to break to Lucifer.

So...this was it. It was time.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean the tears fall as he accepted it.

"Okay," Dean interrupted, blinking as fast as he could so he could still see his little brother, "okay. That's okay too, Sammy," he said, breath hitching at his own quiet sobs.

Sam opened his eye and Dean nodded to him.

"Cas and I... we knew what we were going into, doing this," Dean explained between gasps of his own. "Sam, I'm not gonna leave you," Dean promised, lips trembling and tears breaking over onto Sam's face.

Dean pushed himself up and brought his brother with him, cradling him in his lap. Sam writhed in his grip but Dean felt him hesitantly accepting the motion.

"We're not going to leave you here. Ever. You're not alone anymore, Sammy. I've got you," Dean murmured over and over again as he started to rock him like he used to when he was four and needed the comfort over the loss of their mother just as much as - even maybe more than - the baby.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Dean said, pushing Sam's face against the crook of his neck. "Take the moment," he whispered, looking down at his brother's naked, torn, bloody body, "and just enjoy it, okay?" he croaked, and pushed a kiss onto the top of Sam's head, bloodying his lips and mouth, tasting copper and giving in to his own fate once and for all.

 _Dean!_ Cas shouted, panicked.

Dean didn't respond, just pushed his little brother more closely up against him and held tight. He closed his eyes and prayed.

 _Dean,_ Castiel's voice came again, this time low; understanding.

There was a pause and Dean felt Sam reach up and close a hand over his shoulder. Dean unconsciously propped him up higher to help.

 _Dean,_ Castiel said again and Dean could tell Cas knew their defeat. Dean had failed.

Sam pushed himself up closer against Dean's chest.

 _It has been an honor,_ Cas whispered.

Sam trembled and scrabbled closer to Dean. Dean pressed his palm against the back of his little brother's head protectively.

"You too, Cas," Dean whispered back. He closed his eyes and tucked his face against Sam.

He felt Sam lurch with a sob under him as the kid kept reaching for purchase even though they were already entwined.

"If this," Sam hissed into Dean's ear, "n't real...pl's," Sam begged.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's okay, just relax," Dean shushed, pushing his fingers up and down the back of Sam's neck comfortingly, another nostalgic gesture he used on Sam when they'd been young. "I've got you. I'm not letting go-"

"Don'... hur'... m'brother," Sam whispered desperately before his breath hitched and he solemnly gasped out one last final word. Everything seemed to fall away as Sam uttered the word, "yes."

Suddenly the brothers were sucked up and swallowed through the air by an incredible magnetic force of power. By instinct, Dean latched onto Sam as hard as he could the minute he sensed what was happening, Sam following Dean's grip not a split-second later.

They bounced weightlessly in pitch black space until Dean felt an arm wrap around his back. Flashing blue grace shot out of nowhere around them and Dean spotted Castiel's other arm slide around Sam. Cas pressed them together, chest to chest, impossibly tight, before Dean felt the pressure of acceleration intensifying.

They were really getting out.

"Cas!" he tried to scream - this time with pure joy - but couldn't. He let it go as Cas drove them out of there. Fuck the g-force. Dean wouldn't mind passing out now. Sam's head was tucked in against Dean's neck, his arms clasped around his torso and against his back. Dean noticed he wasn't graying out or tunnel-visioning though and he wondered if Cas was doing that in deference to Sam's current state or if Cas was damaged from whatever he'd had to do to protect them from Lucifer to go slower this time.

It occurred to him they were in pure darkness, with only the slightest blue hue over them, almost like...

Thick feathers swept softly and molded over their skin, tightening and tightening against all three of them. Dean felt Castiel's head duck down against his neck. He heard whistling in the dark and realized it was them. Castiel had turned into a fucking missile in a Hail Mary race to get out before Lucifer caught them to pulled them back.

"Say it again!" Dean yelled into Sam's ear. Sam clutched Dean harder. "Sammy, say yes!" Dean growled.

"Yes!" Sam cried, and the missile that was Castiel's true form shot faster.

Gray-out.

Tunnel-vision.

Dean couldn't feel more relieved to feel this much pain.

Screeching searing sounds of hot metal and then they were out, hitting the sludge of Limbo's muddy ground and sliding through gunky, wet soil for what felt like miles against the ground before coming to a miserable halt. Cas was on his back, holding the brothers together against his chest, all three of them breathless and shaking with exertion as they clutched each other.

The storm of Limbo above crashed over them, the sight and sound the most counterintuitively comforting thing Dean had ever heard.

Cas shifted and Dean tilted off the angel's body, Sam in tow. Cas stood up on wobbly legs and collapsed back down on his knees next to Sam. He panted, wrecked, as he reached out and placed a glowing blue palm against his brother's mangled back. Dean blinked and the injuries and blood were gone. Dean still held him tight, watching as Cas pulled his trench coat off and  wrapped it around Sam. He glanced at Dean and nodded, just the barest hint of a smile twitching his lips, before getting up to scan their environment.

Dean took a second to breathe as he clutched his brother, disbelief and victory warring for territory in him. Sam shivered and shifted against him. Dean huffed and gripped Castiel’s trench coat.

"Sam?" he whispered, pulling his limp brother up so he could look into his eyes. Sam's pupils were blown wide and black, his breath coming out in emphatic gasps. "Sammy, you in there?" Dean prompted, shifting himself to kneel and hold Sam up to get him dressed. He needed Sam conscious, or at least semiconscious, unless he was cool rolling Sam in the black mud of Limbo to get the damn trench on him.

"Sammy, c'mon," Dean pressed, and Sam blinked. "Atta boy, you got it, look at me," Dean coached. Slowly, Sam's eyes turned to his brother. "Good job, good, Sammy, you're out. I got you. We're not done yet, though," he added, guilt and empathy mingling as he kept pushing and propping Sam up until the kid would set his spine. "Can you stay still? We're not done..."

Nothing seemed to be working. Dean had to change tacks.

"Sam, I need you alert, _now_ ," Dean said harshly, trying to sound like their father.

Sam blinked, shivering - hey, that was something. His eyes were unfocused but he seemed to be getting the message. He started swaying upright.

"Yes! Yeah, stay like that, Sammy," Dean insisted, flipping right back to his normal tone. Sam held his body up precariously when Dean pulled away. "Good job, good," Dean rasped with emotion as he swept the trench coat over Sam's back, threading an arm into the sleeve. "Just like when you were five, right?" Dean laughed through tears, getting one arm in and turning to the other. "No problem. This is good," he said, adeptly inserting the other arm into the sleeve. Tears fell but Dean was immune to them by now, not even caring. "Good job, Sammy," he murmured, buttoning the trench all the way down. When he was done he pulled Sam back into an embrace, rocking his limp body gently until Cas came back.

"I can carry him until we reach the doors of Limbo," Cas said quickly, out of breath, eyes wide and desperate.

"How about not," a voice announced over them - over the entire realm of Limbo. Dean and Cas jumped turning in its direction.

"Moose isn't looking too good," Crowley said seriously, head tilted, as he stepped forward, out of the shadows from behind the gallows.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean pressed his little brother tighter and Sam - either consciously or unconsciously - pressed in closer, pulling his limbs in as near to his big brother as possible.

Crowley was playing with something in his hand as he approached, tossing it up and down over and over again. Dean couldn't see what it was, his vision blocked so quickly anyway by Castiel, stepping in front of them as they huddled on the ground, serving as their shield. Dean couldn't see his angel's face, but the posture was power and protection. Dean held his little brother and prayed to Cas, letting him know how much this meant; how much he meant.

Castiel stiffened momentarily, then relaxed with confidence.

"What do you-"

"-want?" Crowley interrupted, his Cheshire grin widening. "I want to do you a favor."

"No," Cas replied immediately.

Crowley made a face.

"Please. Your deal with me is done. I want the _boys_ in my debt," Crowley said, acerbic and sly as ever as he strolled past Cas, eyeing the brothers on the ground. He tilted his head with an exaggerated look of compassion, then broke into his own little chuckle.

"Crowley-"

Crowley turned his head lazily to look at Cas, then back down at Dean. He leaned forward and Dean leaned back by the same measure, pulling his brother back with him, mutely panicked eyes darting up and down Crowley, not knowing what to expect.

"I want to make it clear this is not an act of sentimentality," Crowley prefaced, his face twisting with disgust at the last word. He straightened, and opened his palm. "Catch," he said glibly, and Dean caught the small piece of metal.

It was a familiar shape even before he opened his fingers to see it: the amulet that Sam had given to him one Christmas in a cold motel room when they were children.

"How did you-" Cas started.

"-Don't ask questions you know I won't bother answering, Castiel. I'm the king of hell, not a Bond villain," Crowley snapped, disdain lacing his words. He stared down at Dean until the older brother looked back up. "Amara is God's sister," Crowley informed peevishly, "Which makes Amara God's _problem_." Crowley sauntered back, closer to Castiel. "Now, while I know many, many people, things, and places and many, many ways in which to _procure_ these people, things, and places..." he paused, looking at Castiel witheringly before turning back to Dean, "Well, a meeting with God is _likely_ not one of them."

Crowley turned back to Cas, eyebrow raised.

"Are we on the same celestial wavelength of intent?" Crowley teased, giving a slow conspiratorial grin. Castiel stared daggers at him, unwilling to speak. Crowley's eyes moved from side to side, considering his options, before he stepped back. "Well," he said cheerfully, "you find God with _that_ ," he pointed to the amulet, "check his sched, y'know," Crowley flicked an exaggerated broken wrist, "maybe after His spa day and before His winter vacation, you know," Crowley added, then turned back to the three of them and said, "and tell him to start taking responsibility for his _fuck up_ of a _bloody sister!"_ he roared. 

Cas and Dean held stock still.

Crowley fixed his tie and straightened the sleeves of his suit.

"Now," he said, suddenly calm, "get the hell," Crowley paused, smirking, and raised his hand, "out of my hell," Crowley snapped.

And they were in Purgatory.

Sam was still in his lap with the trench coat on, Castiel on a boulder about ten feet away. Castiel swirled around, at a loss.

"Cas!" Dean called out quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Cas turned, sighted them, and jumped off the boulder to sprint towards them. He picked up the weapons they'd left behind at Hell's door.

"Cas-"

"Take these," Cas said, shoving the weapons near Dean as he crouched down, scooped Sam up out of Dean's arms, and held him close. Sam squirmed and Dean stepped in, pushing Sam's hair off his face.

"We mustn't delay," the angel said anxiously. Dean looked at his angel, nodded, then bent down for the weapons. Castiel took a moment to look down at the youngest Winchester. Sam's eyes were open, staring at Cas, only the barest semblance of recognition in his eyes.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel whispered, smiling kindly. Sam swallowed, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Relax, Sam. This'll be over soon," Cas promised.

Dean watched, oddly moved, before Cas looked up and nodded. Dean returned the gesture and they set off.

They flew through the forests of Purgatory, Castiel's wings battered but still able to help Dean maneuver through the rough terrain by gusting him up and setting him down gently as possible as they made their way to the portal. Dean barely saw any monsters but the ones he _did see_ stared in awe, dumbstruck, as the trio left them behind.

They reached the cliff side and Dean landed with the air pressure setting him safely against a rock ledge. Cas stood five feet away, holding Sam secure in his arms. Dean looked out over purgatory and his jaw dropped of its own accord.

"This is why we didn't do this earlier," Cas muttered dully.

The sight of them flying through Purgatory to get to the portal had amassed an army of monsters in their wake, collectively swarming towards where they stood.

Dean assessed the onslaught and looked over to Cas with a knowing smile.

"They won't get here in time."

"No. They won't," Cas agreed, watching the phalanx rampaging towards them.

Cas propped Sam up in his arms and Dean saw Sam's hands lift to grasp Castiel’s shirt. Cas unconsciously tilted Sam's torso to angle in so Sam could grab more of the fabric. Dean twitched a smile. He felt raw but exhilarated; only one more step to go before getting topside.

"Where-?" Dean grunted, just as the portal emerged, streaking blue and white streaks of light. He turned, looked backwards to Cas to make sure he saw, and started for it, Cas following close behind. He waited for his angel and his little brother to join him. Together, Castiel with Sam his arms and Dean, they stepped into the portal and let the screeching lights and flashes take them away.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean gasped up from the ground, back to inhabiting the physical body he’d left on Earth. He breathed heavily for a moment before frantically scrambling up and wiping his back, neck, and hair free of bugs and rain and dirt that had crawled onto his dead body while he'd been below.

He stumbled forward to find Castiel kneeling on the ground just as the portal closed behind him, Sam still safe and bundled in his arms.

Cas gasped and Dean rushed forward.

"Cas, what-"

Cas looked up wearily, reached out to touch Dean's forehead, and together the three of them blinked out of sight.

Dean hit soft carpet as the sound of a bed's mattress whooshed under pressure. A dull thud and Dean turned his head to see Cas just standing up from having fallen off the bed.

"Cas-" Dean whispered, exhausted, "Sam."

"Sam is fine," Cas responded, "I put him to sleep," he said softly, tilting his head, looking at Sam. His expression was fond.

"I must go," Cas said without inflection.

Dean made a face of confused worry and Cas gave in slightly, stepping around the bed where Sam lay quiet, to bend over and help him up from the floor.

Dean held on to Castiel’s arm.

"Where? Where are you going? What deal did you-"

"Stop," Cas replied, eyes boring into Dean's pleadingly. He looked down at Sam, covered by his own trench coat, sleeping peacefully atop the starburst comforter, just as he'd intended; just as he'd hoped.

Cas turned back to Dean and smiled genuinely. He suddenly stiffened and let his lips become a thin line.

"Take care of Sammy," Cas said seriously, his eyes and mouth slowly twitching into a grin at Dean's reaction to someone else calling his brother that name.

Dean pursed his lips, repressing a rueful smile, then looked up.

"Don't call him that," he said.

"I know," Cas chuckled, turning to look at him, his eyes soft with affection. Cas licked his lips, preparing to speak as he looked back Dean. The man he’d saved from hell, the man he'd sacrificed so much for... and with absolutely no regrets for it. "We will meet again, Dean," he said, his confidence in the truth unwavering. "What I've traded? I would do it again for you and your brother."

Dean swallowed, nervous and concerned for what exactly Cas was talking about. He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but Cas broke him off before he even began.

"I wouldn't change my decisions," Cas said, then looked back to Sam then Dean, "I wouldn't change them, Dean."

Cas leaned in and tilted his head, blue eyes glowing with faith and love.

"Do you understand?" he whispered.

Dean felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he nodded.

"Good," Cas whispered, and Dean pulled him in.

"Thank you," Dean murmured, desperately trying to let Cas know his gratitude, "thank you," he repeated, his voice breaking as he brought a hand up to the back of the angel's head.

Castiel melted into the embrace and hugged back, reveling in the soulful connection between them both before he had to tear away.

After a while, synchronized, they pulled back.

"You take care of yourself, okay, Cas?" Dean sniffed, eyes glassy as he looked at his friend.

Cas smiled generously and nodded.

And in a blink, he was gone.

 

**The End**

* * *

 

 **A/N:** It's very possible I'll be writing an epilogue to this story featuring a recovering Sam & Dean at the Lake House Inn, but technically this is the end of the story. Huzzah! Thank you again so much for reading - please feel free to comment/review. I'd love to know what you thought! ~ Alex


End file.
